


Last Shot

by bearonthecouch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Suicide Attempt (Non-Canonically Successful), Fire, Gen, No happy endings, Non-Canonical Character Death, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15443919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: Marcoh said “STOP.”But why?





	Last Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags. I'm not playing.

“What do I do?” Roy whispers. And he is broken. He is _begging_ . The weight of the gun is heavy in his hand, he watches Marcoh, desperate, this man who told him “STOP” but _why_?

“Would you keep quiet and let me run away?” the older Alchemist asks.

Roy frowns. He is still shaking. He nods, slowly.

Marcoh can do whatever he wants; Roy doesn’t have the energy to stop him, he doesn’t have the ability to remember why he might want to.

Marcoh breathes a sigh of relief, he smiles at Roy. He gives a little nod that might mean ‘thank you’ and then he’s gone.

Roy stands there, breathing fast and shallow and he can’t feel _anything_ except the weight of the gun, and he falls to his knees and he hears the echo of the shot, the little gasp of air that was Urey Rockbell’s last breath, Sarah’s half-strangled cry even though she was trying to be strong and she told him she didn’t blame him. Another shot, so loud he’d jumped and bit his lip so hard it drew blood. He tasted his own blood as he watched theirs pooling out onto the floor, and then he was vomiting up everything he had in him, feeling dazed and dizzy with the contents of his stomach mixing with their blood.

He was still holding the gun, he’d never dropped it. He’d pressed it up against his chin. What was one more shot, one more life, after all of the lives that he has already taken? Just one more shot, and no one would be able to force him to kill anymore. No more fire. No more blood. No more gunshots echoing in his ears, no more screaming, and no more broken cries.

His life for how many countless thousands of Ishvalans, his life for these two innocent people who did not deserve to die. The exchange is not equivalent, but Roy only has the one life, so it’s as fair as he can make it.

Their _bodies_ are still there, their lifeless stares are blankly accusing. Roy almost reaches down to at least close their eyes but he thinks that he deserves the accusation. And he’s so tired. And everything feels so heavy. And he leaves it.

His eyes find the picture of the Rockbell’s daughter, stained with blood, with Urey’s lifeless arm still draped over it. They’d talked about their daughter all the time. She wanted to grow up to be a doctor, just like them.

Roy’s an orphan. How could he willingly make another child an orphan, for the sake of what? Following orders?

Even a dog will strain against a leash if it’s being pulled somewhere it doesn’t want to be led.

He should have said no.

Marcoh said “the sin is mine,” but Roy knows better.

He’s just one more dog that deserves a bullet to the head.

Marcoh said “STOP.”

But _why_?

He grasped desperately for some kind of reason but Marcoh hadn’t given him one.

There is not one single fucking good reason why he deserves to stay alive. He doesn’t even want to.

The cost of his continuing life will be so much more death. It’s been so long that Roy can’t even remember what it was like to have a day without fire and smoke and ash and bones and choking heat and the ungodly stench of burning human bodies and he knows that fire is one of the most painful possible ways to die, and he does this, over and over again, so many times that even Hughes who can count _everything_ has probably lost count of how many people Roy’s killed. In the worst possible way.

He snaps his fingers and purposely touches the flame to the bare skin on the inside of his left arm, and he can only hold it for a handful of seconds before a scream tears itself from his throat and he smothers the fire with his jacket. His flesh is already bubbling and blistering.

He cannot keep doing this. These people are _innocent_.

He fucking _refuses_.

No. More.

He picks up the gun.

One last fucking shot.   
  
And it’s so easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So if someone tells you or shows you that they're suicidal, you do NOT just tell them "don't do that" and then just walk away, and you DEFINITELY don't leave the fucking gun! I was so pissed at Marcoh here, you guys. 
> 
> Nationwide Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255 in the United States. #bethe1to save a life


End file.
